“As you were, ladies and gentlemen. Please be seated.” Nolan sat at the head of the table and turned to Saurez. “Good morning, General.”
“Good morning, Mr. President. Where would you like to begin?”
Nolan smiled. “Eire.”
“Of course, sir.” Saurez nodded to a younger officer, who touched a control on the central holoprojector. The lights dimmed, and a 3D representation of low Eire orbit appeared. A string of red icons encircled the planet. “If you direct your attention to the simulation, the Leaguers have installed a planetary defense system. It's specifically designed to supply long-range missile support, and they built it off our space elevators.”
Silence invaded the room as those assembled took in the display.
“Aside from it being an obvious impediment to retaking the planet, General, what’s the point?”
“There’re enough missiles on those installations to give even our toughest, largest vessels a run for their money, sir. As I’ve observed to you on countless occasions, the enemy can’t match us on equal numbers, but they can overwhelm us with their quantitative advantage.” Suarez cleared his throat. “I believe we have a solution.” He touched a button, and several icons flashed. “Instead of trying to slug this out with battleships, we instead will send in enough carriers to overwhelm them with small craft.”
“Fighters? Bombers?”
“Exactly, Mr. President. Simultaneously, Space Special Warfare operators will infiltrate all three space elevator orbital complexes. Their primary objective will be to shut down the planetary-defense network. If that cannot be accomplished, they will transit to the surface and cause as much mayhem as possible.”
Nolan furrowed his brow. “It sounds risky, General.”
“Sir, this plan is exceptionally risky. However, it balances out the risk by not committing our battlewagons and other heavy assets.” Saurez set his jaw. “It will also demonstrate whether our fourth-generation space-superiority fighters and bombers can tangle with a hardened target and prevail.”
The results would be vital against the backdrop of an ongoing debate within the highest levels of the Terran Coalition government on what type of ships, how many of them, and what strategy doctrine to adopt. “When do you project being able to execute?”
“That answer hasn’t changed, sir. I think we’re probably six months away. Right now, we’re focused on bottling up the Leaguers and extracting as high a price as possible for them to keep supplying their prize.” Saurez adopted a nasty smirk. “It’s all well and good to capture territory, but holding it is the problem.”
A white-haired woman, Rachel Ziv, director of interstellar intelligence from CIS, leaned forward. “I am happy to report a robust resistance network has sprouted up throughout Eire.”
Nolan turned to her. “Undoubtably encouraged by CIS assets?”
“Of course, Mr. President. As of last report, close to a thousand cells are active, and attacks on League logistics are carried out nearly daily.”
While tying up enemy troops was a positive thing, Nolan wondered what the cost in civilian lives was. “How are the Leaguers responding to those attacks?”
“With collective punishment and reprisals, sir.”
“Give it to me straight, Director.” Nolan narrowed his eyes.
“They kill ten civilians for every League soldier killed.”
Gasps went up around the room.
Nolan set his jaw, wanting to throw up. “Perhaps we should consider waving the resistance folks off. Wait until we’re ready to attack.”
Ziv exchanged glances with Karimi and Saurez.
Saurez cleared his throat. “Mr. President, as deplorable as the loss of life is, this is war. Our people are fighting for their freedom. They’re raising hell behind the lines and confusing the battlespace. To call them off now would be a betrayal of everything they’ve fought for.”
“I might add that every time the League carries out another reprisal, it drives more citizens into the ranks of the resistance,” Ziv said. “And they grow ever stronger. CIS believes by the time we’re ready to launch the campaign, there will be upward of five million partisans.”
Somehow that was cold comfort to Nolan. Something else to pray for absolution on. He forced himself to move on. “I noticed a reference to pirate activity along with it being squashed by the Zvika Greengold in my daily intelligence brief.”
“Yes, sir.” Saurez shook his head. “I think General Yukimura wanted to give Colonel Tehrani and her crew some rest. Instead, they stumbled into a hornet’s nest.”
Laughter scattered through the room.
“Do we believe the problem is resolved?”
Ziv leaned forward. “CIS is still investigating, Mr. President. Right now, we think so, but we’re not sure. Our asset on scene is concerned about how quickly these pirates deployed advanced weaponry. He’s convinced there’s more to it than simple criminal mischief.”
“I take what your asset says with a grain of salt after reading the report given on his conduct by CDF personnel on scene.” Saurez narrowed his eyes. “Especially after he advocated torture.”
“Enhanced interrogation isn’t torture, General,” Ziv replied curtly. “Especially not of irregular combatants.”
As Saurez started to respond, Nolan stepped in, unwilling to allow a fight to break out during the morning briefing. He brought his hand up. “Read my lips: no torture. Period. Not on my watch.”
“Sir—”
“Don’t test me on this, Director Ziv,” Nolan replied. “You serve at my pleasure. Don’t forget it.”
“Yes, sir.” Ziv sat back, anger flashing in her eyes.
“Neutral shipping guilds, including the Interstellar Spacers Union, are howling about the attacks, sir,” Karimi interjected. “We’re getting diplomatic complaints from all major human worlds in the border area. Lusitania, New Cornish, and Gilead, to name a few.”
If it wasn’t one thing, it was ten others. Nolan suppressed the desire to put his head in his hand. At a time when civilians are in peril from a communist empire hell-bent on dominating all of humanity, we have to deal with this? “Let me guess, General. The CDF doesn’t have any available assets for pirate interdiction.”
“You’ve got that right, sir. It’s a stretch to keep the Greengold’s battlegroup on station. Frankly, we want her back at the front. Terran Coalition Frontier Enforcement and in-system patrol vessels are going to have to pick up the slack.”
“What about the Organization of Non-Aligned
